Citrus Coconut Paradise
by Capbuckyang
Summary: Natasha and Steve come back from a mission and a friendly massage turns into a more interesting way of relaxing.


_I don't know where this came from, but it wouldn't leave me, so here's some more Romanogers smut._

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"I'll take the floor," Steve declares as he gingerly pulls on his shirt over his head, wincing and clearly struggling with his aching joints and sores. She can't blame him, it was a messy mission, tons of rebel soldiers trying hell and high water to burn down the facility, but they got most of them and the few left are under Shield's surveillance. Natasha feels her own muscles protest as she moves about their tiny hotel room, better than most safe houses she's hidden in, but tiny and a little run down.

"Thought we were over this gentlemen act, Cap."

The shower had helped them both a little, washed away the blood and grime, but she could see it had done nothing for the super soldier who cringed when simply turning his neck to look at her. "It's not an act," he insists stubbornly, but he hasn't moved from the edge of the single bed in the room, looking worse for the wear; she begins to feel a little bad for him. He had been in the middle of the extraction; she had only swung in once all the Intel was collected. She makes her way over to the mattress with soft white sheets, practically begging her to fall into them, and stands between his legs. "You ok?" she asks finally, more concerned now that he still looks incredibly uncomfortable and exhausted. He gazes up at her with tired, but still bright blue eyes.

"Yeah, I...I don't know, must have been the adrenaline, now it's just…" He makes an adorable pouty face and Natasha has to bite her lip to hide her grin. She shifts to the side and unzips her small red and black backpack, and pulls out a bottle of citrus coconut body lotion. "Take off your shirt." He raises an eyebrow, even as his cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and stares at her blankly. "Is this your way of telling me to stop being a gentleman?" She laughs and pulls off her blue hoodie, leaving her in a flimsy red tank top and black shorts. "No, it's to give you a massage-and for the record, you're hardly a gentleman." He chuckles and shakes his head, holding his head up to keep his eyes locked on hers, after she catches him roam them over her flimsy clothes.

"No, Nat, you're exhausted, it's ok, I'll be fine, just need some sleep and-" "Is it always this difficult for you to accept some help?" They've been partnered on missions quiet frequently after the battle of New York, and she's honestly come to enjoy his company-witty remarks, innocence and charm, old battered soul, much like her, but he's always been a stubborn ass when it came to "needing" anything, and she assumes it must be because he thinks he needs to be completely self reliant as the Captain.

"People have different, sometimes unusual ways, of collecting debts when they help." He scratches the back of his neck, wincing when his sore shoulder stings. "That's more spy talk than solider." She drops the bottle of lotion on the bed, and stands between his knees once more. "Maybe you're rubbing off on me." She smirks and tugs at the hem of his white t-shirt.

Partners they may be, but this dynamic was new and they were still getting accustomed to touch. It was natural with Clint, Maria, even Coulson now, hardly needed with Stark, and Banner was always wary, while Thor was sometimes overly too touchy, but Steve was different. He was tactile, shoulder squeezes, pats on the back, grips on the arm, but other than that and a few brushes during fighting, they've never really touched. "Come on, Rogers, I've got no ulterior motive, just want to be able to sleep tonight and won't be able to if you keep shifting in groaning in bed like an old man."

His blue eyes look panicked, but needy in a way, looking for an anchor.

"Pants too," she taps his waistband with the bottle of lotion she picked up from the bed, and this time he doesn't hesitate, simply pulls them down, leaving him in checkered red boxer shorts. "Are those…?" she tries to hide her grin, but Iron man is sitting on Captain America's crotch, she can't help it. "They were a gift; I didn't want to offend Tony!" Natasha laughs when he turns a pretty pink; he's not wearing them as a joke, but out of courtesy. "You are ridiculous," she says affectionately, and really means, you're fucking adorable.

He squirms on the bed for a minute, but she halts his movements and pushes him back toward the bed, to lie down. "On your stomach for me, Cap." He turns and slowly falls into it, cursing under his breath when his sore body protests everything. "So demanding," he mumbles and she grins while she climbs on and straddles his hips, her gaze unashamedly taking in the glorious expanse of his muscled back. "Maybe you're rubbing off on me." His laugh is muffled by the pillow, and Natasha finally opens up the bottle of citrus coconut lotion, and squeezes a small amount into her palm. "Shit," he mutters when the cold cream is slathered onto his golden skin, and Natasha chuckles, smooths out the sweet smelling lotion up to his shoulders, down his arms, and up his neck. He lets out a pleasured sigh when she starts pressing into the tense tendons, feels accomplished when he relaxes further into the bed, soft whimpers and mewls leaving his lips as she works on getting every sore spot and ache soothed.

"That's…incredible," he finishes on a moan, and Natasha feels desire pulse through her, because god damn is he attractive and practically putty in her fingers right now. "Told you it'd be worth it," she bends low to whisper in his ear and he mumbles thank yous and sighs happily. He's like an adorable puppy, and she takes her time smoothing down his skin, kneading his lower back thoroughly, debating whether or not she should pull down his boxers to get rid of the red animation (or just indulge—he has a great ass, ok?).

He wasn't speaking anymore, just whimpering soft praises, a relaxed mess while she rubbed and stroked all the way to his toes. She crawls back up, her skin tingling as it touches his, and leans down to his ear to whisper, "On your back for me, Rogers." He groans but does as she says, blue eyes half lidded, a lazy smile on his rosy, soft lips. She shakes her head adoringly, and smiles back; it feels good to give someone some sort of comfort, something to ease the tension he carries around almost all the time. She straddles his hips and presses more lotion from the bottle onto her hands to rub into his skin, and starts the massage again, soothing the aches in his muscles.

It's more intimate this way, she can see how her touch affects him, the soft way his lips part when she takes out a particular twinge in his shoulder. "How are you so good at this?" his fingers grab her wrist when she glides her hands down his lower stomach, and the contact makes her stomach flutter. "I'm a woman of many talents." "You are," he agrees, and strokes the inside of her wrist with his thumb, blushes hotly when she drags herself lower to reach his hip bones and is met with the tent in his boxers. "Nat, I-shit, I'm," "It's ok," she chuckles and kisses the skin just above the waist band to stop his sudden worry. His eyelashes flutter close and she didn't necessarily plan for this to happen, but she has been touching him for the past hour and he's gorgeous, and she can't help but want…

"Steve, would you like me to touch you?" "You are touching me," he retorts instantly, his voice a little strained, blue eyes darkened. She smirks and tugs at the elastic. "Tell me if you want this Cap, I don't do things half way." He sits up, fingers clenching in the sheets as her breath ghosts over his lower abdomen, and looks ridiculously delicious; she can feel the heat between her thighs throb. "Yes," he breathes it so softly she barely hears it, but it's all she needs before she tugs down his red boxers and takes in the sight of him, thick, straining, and surprisingly beautiful.

Of course Captain America would have the prettiest cock she's ever seen, curved up, flushed pink, and wet at the tip.

He's gazing at her with a hazy, lustful gaze, teeth digging into his lower lip when she curls a hand around the base of his heavy cock, and it makes her wonder if he's ever done this before, if Stark's teasing is true, but mostly she's wondering how long it's been since anyone has touched him this much at all, let alone sexually. "Breathe, Steve," she murmurs because he's been holding his breath since she's tugged down his boxers and she's pretty sure oxygen deprivation for an extended mount of time would knock out even a super solider. He lets out a breath when she squeezes her hand around him and settles between his thighs more comfortably.

She strokes him leisurely, thumbs at the thick veins, swipes her finger tips across the pink, leaking head, and feels the clench of desire between her thighs when he instinctively lifts his hips up. "Natasha, you're-oh fuck," his body shudders when she finally wraps her lips around the head and sucks gently. She's not the biggest fan of giving head, but the feel and taste of Steve's cock might change her mind. He's panting softly, whispering little praises and curses, and it's beyond sexy, even little adorable when one of his hands ghost over her hair, clearly begging to anchor in the red curls, but too much of a gentleman to simply do it without her consent. She pulls away with a pop, swirling her tongue around the tip and chuckles when he moans loudly, absolutely wrecked for her already.

"You can touch me too, you know." She kisses his cock and opens wider, swallows down his thick length, and he finally anchors a hand in her hair. "You're amazing," he shudders as she pulls back to lick beneath the sensitive head, looks up to see his blue eyes closed in a haze of ecstasy. She clenches her thighs together when he moans; she's never been this wet from simply giving a blowjob. "Nat, fuck,_please_," he whines and tugs on her hair just a little when she teases him, licks over the tip flittingly, stroking him loose and fast. He looks wrecked, hips thrusting up, and it's so achingly wonderful and different than straight laced Captain America; it's all Steve Rogers coming undone for her and she loves it.

She moves a hand lower to caress his balls and engulfs him once more, the heavy weight of his cock on her tongue causing another surge of arousal shooting up her spine. She catches his lust ridden, adoring blue eyes just as she licks sweetly from root to tip, pulls him in to the heat of her mouth and sucks hard. "Fuck, Nat, I-I'm..." he comes hot and wet down her throat, nearly chocking her with the force of it, but the sounds he's making, and the way he's trembling is so genuinely beautiful and raw, she doesn't care, swallows every drop and releases him when he whines with sensitivity. He's breathing roughly, a light sheen of sweat covers his skin, and his hair is charmingly messy.

His lips curve into a satisfied smile when she crawls up to face him, straddles his hips and grins when his thumb traces her bottom lip tenderly. He pulls her into a languid melting kiss, cupping her face softly, lips supple and licking into her mouth as if it holds all the treasures of the world. "Thank you," he says quietly against her mouth and she chuckles, only to be reeled back into another kiss, deep and rougher; her pussy throbs with want when he sucks her lower lip into his mouth, cupping her ass in his gentle, yet firm hands. Before she can think about dipping her fingers beneath her shorts to get herself off, quick and easy, he's is urging her up, pulling actually while he lies back down.

"Steve, what are you doing?" "I'm too tired to move, and jesus, practically immobile from your gorgeous mouth, so come here." Her heartbeat quickens when she realizes what he intends, and who is she to deny Captain's orders? She shimmies out of her shorts, and kisses him again because he's smiling devilishly and Stark was oh so very wrong. It should feel odd, going from barely there touches to straddling his face, his hands warm on her thighs, as her fingers clench around the head board above them, but it feels almost too natural.

"Have you ever-holy shit," she can feel his smirk against her dripping cunt, sucks in a breath when he licks the entire length of her, lips closing around her clit to suck gently. "You taste so good, Nat," he groans against her and she shivers, thrust down eagerly, pleasantly surprised again when he grips her thighs with his hands and teases apart her folds to fuck her with his tongue. "Steve, that's not very gentlemanly." She cups her breast, lost in the high of sensation, grinding down as he laughs against her muffled and slick; the heat curls in her belly with every stroke of his tongue. "Are you complaining?" he asks gruffly before sucking her clit into his mouth and sliding two thick fingers into her slick cunt.

Her breath hitches and she feels her muscles clench around him; he slides in and out in a slow rhythm. "No, I-_ahhh_, fuck yes, just like that, Rogers." She's warm and electrified, twists a hand in the short blonde strands of his hair while bracing the other against the headboard. He's definitely talented with that tongue, and she moans softly when he twirls his tongue over her clit, pressing his fingers into her deep and determined, letting her grind against his chin and nose. He's eating her out devotedly, and she begins to reconsider how long he can hold his breath, because she's most likely suffocating him and he doesn't seem to mind at all, and it feels so good, and she can't, she wants- "Fuck," she comes hard, overwhelmed with pleasure, when he thrusts his fingers just so, his nose pressed against her clit when she thrust down.

She rolls her hips, gasping softly when he continues to lave at her slick, fluttering cunt. He eases her down by gripping her waist and pulling her over his broad chest, tucking her close to him. She can feel his rumbling, almost smug laughter beneath her as she tries to catch her breath, and nips the skin above his pink nipple in response.

"Guess Tony was wrong." He quirks an eyebrow and strokes the hair away from her face, glides his hand down over her neck and shoulder, further down to cup her breast though the thin cotton tank and brush his thumb across her nipple. "Steve Rogers isn't a blushing virgin," she smirks and he chuckles low and deep, tilts her chin up to place a soft kiss on her lips. "Maybe I was for this century…that was the first time I've been touched or have touched a woman since I woke up." She feels warmth bloom in her chest unexpectedly as he gazes at her with blue eyes filled with a fond, mesmerized affection. "Glad I could be your first, Cap."

Her eyes are heavy with sleep and he's so very warm beneath her, so she decides to get as comfortable as possible. She sits up slightly to pull of her tank top and grins when his eyes devour her, pink lips parted, fingers ghosting reverently over the newly exposed skin of her breasts. "You're beautiful," he says so endearingly she believes it and then almost laughs when his cock begins to stiffen besides her thigh.

She rolls onto her side and pulls his arm around her waist, the scent of coconut, citrus, and Steve engulfing her. "I really, _really_want to fuck you right now, but I can't even move." She finally does laugh at the remorse in his voice, and tangles their legs together, until they're essentially cuddling. His lips brush over her shoulder, in soft kisses and she feels that odd warmth in her chest again, throbbing in a way she's never really felt before. "Go to sleep, Steve, we'll have time." He's already nodding off when she comes to the realization that something was changed between them now; the simple act of touch had the tendency to do that and as she drifts off to sleep, back pressed against his warm, solid chest, heartbeat steady, she knows it's a good thing, really, _really_ good.

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